


The Perils and Tribulations of Gift Giving

by Jenny_Starseed



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humour, Morse is a lost Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:05:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenny_Starseed/pseuds/Jenny_Starseed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's the usual...flowers, chocolates, promises you don't intend to keep.." </p><p>He just needed a gift for Monica.  Anything will do.  </p><p>He can solve murders but buying gifts for his girlfriend is beyond him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perils and Tribulations of Gift Giving

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the morseverse prompt meme:  
> "There's the usual...flowers, chocolates, promises you don't intend to keep.."
> 
> Morse wants to do something special for Monica to show his affection, but due to his awkwardness, is unsure of where to begin. Enter Jakes with unsolicited relationship advice.
> 
> https://morseverse.dreamwidth.org/1519.html?thread=23791#cmt23791

The lady's section of the department store was vast. Rows upon rows of shirts, dresses, slacks, jackets in a dizzying array of colours, shapes and sizes. The accessories department was not much help either. Every bit and bob in every size and shape. Morse fingered the delicate silver fringe of the tasseled end of a scarf hanging from a display. 

 

"May I help you?" asked a genteel sales woman. Her hair was up in a tasteful french twist and he wondered how he didn't hear her approach in her smart black heels. Everything about her was poised. Her patient but steady gaze waited for a response that seemed to have died on his throat. He felt like he was called upon by his primary school teacher and had no idea of the answer expected of him. 

 

He stared at her. He felt the tell-tale mortifying creeping feeling of a blush appearing on his cheeks. His mind blank, all he could commit to was an "ummm..."

 

The sales woman (her name tag said Heidi) smiled. "A ladyfriend?" she queried. 

 

"Ah, yes. I suppose," said Morse. He gestured around him like a man lost in the woods. "A gift. Would you suggest anything?"

 

Another sympathetic smile. Morse wanted to shrink further into his coat. "We could start with what you think the lady would like," said Heidi. "Do you know her size? What does she normally wear?"

 

Morse thought hard. He's mostly seen her in her nurses uniform and on weekends...he tried to conjure up what she wore on weekends or those stolen late nights when neither of them were working. He remembered the roughness of her wool coat under his fingers but couldn't remember the colour or the shape of it. 

 

Sensing that he was taking too much time thinking of an answer, he blurted "Something casual but nice." 

 

She nodded. "Come this way."

 

She led him to a neat display of solid coloured jumpers, neatly folded in upright squares. All the colours of the rainbow and a few shades of brown. She picked out a canary yellow jumper and held it out in the palm of her hand. "Feel this."

 

Morse felt the silky softness of the material, suddenly feeling self-conscious of his long knobby fingers. 

 

"Cashmere," she announced as if it meant something significant. Morse swallowed and nodded. "Doesn't it feel lovely?"

 

"It feels very nice," Morse muttered. He peaked at the price tag and his eyebrows shot up. He hastily looked away, pretending the jumper didn't exist. 

 

"Buying something for your bird, Morse?" said a voice behind him. 

 

Startled, Morse turned to find the amused and mild look of Jakes. His hands were shoved nonchalantly in his pocket, looking very smart in his mustard turtleneck and slicked back hair. Morse nodded. 

 

"Were you thinking of getting that?" he asked, gesturing to the canary yellow jumper. "It's a nice colour but girls can be particular about colours. Best to get one in black. It's never done me wrong."

 

"I'll give you a bit of time to look," Heidi politely interjected. And by the sound of the gentle clicking of her smart heels, Morse knew she was gone. Morse absently felt the edge the forest green jumper that was lying near his hip, wondering if it was possible to afford something nice and casual, whatever that meant. 

 

"What's her name?"

 

Morse looked up. "Monica."

 

Jakes nodded. "Been seeing her long?"

 

"Just a few months. It's her birthday next week. I wanted to get her something."

 

"She got you that, didn't she?" asked Jakes, motioning to the red scarf around his neck. 

 

Morse remembered Joan asked him the exact same thing. He wondered if there was a secret language of gift giving that announced one's sudden romantic attachment. "How can you tell?"

 

Jakes rolled his eyes. "It was the only new and flattering thing you wore in all the months I've known you. You don't take care of yourself, Morse. You have the happy content look of a man who suddenly got a girl feeding him,taking care of him." Jakes wiggled his eyebrows in a way that almost made Morse snort if it wasn't at his expense. "Dressing him in the morning."

 

"What would you suggest?" asked Morse, abruptly changing the subject. 

 

"There's the usual...flowers, chocolates," began Jakes. "Promises you don't intend to keep.." 

 

"I keep my promises," said Morse, suddenly feeling defensive for reasons that didn't immediately make sense to him.

 

"Good lot that will do you. You look like a man lost at sea. You need help," said Jakes, looking much too self-satisfied for his own good. 

 

"You think you could help me?" asked Morse, somehow sounding simultaneously defensive and hopeful. 

 

"Hard to say. I don't know her. What does she like?"

 

Morse searched his recollection of his time with her. He mentally went through all the rooms of her small bedsit, trying to find clues as to what she liked. All he could remember was how her bedsit made him felt. Warm. Comforting. Female. Taken care of. None of which translated into a gift he could hold in his hand. 

 

"She has a very nice teapot," began Morse. "It had tiny yellow flowers on it. It looked sturdy but I could never hold in my hand without fearing I would break it. All my plates are chipped." 

 

Jakes stared at him. "Right. You're in a right mess, Morse."

 

He took him by the elbow and led him out of the store. Past the multi-coloured display of jumpers, the plethora of mismatched discounted bits of plastic bangles and earnings fringed scarves on tables with giant red signs saying "SALE." Morse studiously avoided looking at the the forest of frilly flesh-coloured lace that was the lady's intimates department.

 

Once they were out of the store, Jakes began to light a cigarette. He let out a long plume of smoke. "Blimey. I hate those places," he said. He looked at Morse. Almost pityingly. "You look like you need a drink." 

 

Morse scrubbed his eyes with his hand and almost groaned. "What I need is a gift."

 

"Has it ever occurred to you to take her out for a nice dinner?" suggested Jakes, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. Morse felt that heavy feeling of dread lift from his heart when the answer stood there, right in his face. There was a nice little Italian Bistro across the street with white table cloths. A bit posh, but not intimidatingly so. 

 

Jakes clapped him on the shoulders as he directed him down the street. "Sometimes that's all a girl needs. Some candles and wine. Don't overthink it mate. She's still seeing you. You've won the half the battle already."


End file.
